


A Year's A Journey

by RocketRabbits



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Slice of Life, Two Shot, focus is on Wirt and Sara's evolving relationship but is not entirely romantic, greg and sara bonding, greg is really cute, like as in each month is a new event and they're tangentially related, like literally the most romantic thing in here is they kiss once and it's not in any detail, monthly vingettes, takes place from November to the following October, third person present tense, wirt is trying to be a good brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocketRabbits/pseuds/RocketRabbits
Summary: A lot can change in just a year.
OR, 
People change as the seasons do, and two (well, three) kids figure out how to do it together.





	A Year's A Journey

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated in part to my dweeb scully-exe on tumblr, who read every version of this fic ever written, and let me yell about it for about six months.

November brings shy glances, Saturdays spent listening to music, and things he won’t talk about. He promises he will, one day, and she tells him it’s fine if he never does, and he tries, once. He looks her dead in the eyes and whispers the words beast and bluebird and so, so cold, but it’s all she hears before he crumples into himself, pulls his sweater up to his ears and falls face first into his bed, curled against the wall. She thinks he’s crying, so she waits for a little while, her hand on his leg, humming something she hopes calms him down. She doesn’t know what it is, but his breath smoothes out and the grip on his sweater loosens and she asks if he’s okay but it looks like he’s either asleep or faking it. She pats his leg and pulls up a blanket before tiptoeing out, pulling the door closed behind her before she taps softly on the one across the hall.

It swings open with a creak and she almost winces, but Greg looks so happy to see her that she just smiles back. 

“Are you good at keeping people safe?” She whispers.

“I can try!”

“Will you look out for Wirt for me? It’s very important.”

“Wirt?” he grins like he knows something she doesn’t. She’s certain he does. “Pshaw. I’ve been looking out for Wirt for years now! He’s safe with me.”

She smiles and ruffles his hair with a whispered “Thank you, Greg,” because she’s sure he’s right.

Her footsteps fall softly on the stairs, but Wirt hears them through his closed door. She calls goodbye to his mother, and he buries his head in his pillow.

“Sara-” he tries the next Saturday. “I’m sorry-”

“For what?” She asks, bright and chipper and like she really doesn’t know. Then, softer, “You don’t have anything to apologise for, okay?”

He looks at her, then, his eyebrows pulling in, trying to make sure they’re talking about the same thing, before he notices he’s been looking too long and she’s holding his gaze. He glances away. “Right Yeah. Sorry.”

She doesn’t reprimand him for his apology, but he cringes like she has. She can practically hear him berating himself, so she reaches out to lay her palm on his arm in what she hopes comes off as a reassuring gesture. Wirt doesn’t meet her eyes, but he smiles sheepishly at her hand on his arm, and she grins back. 

December is cold, pushing snow and ice and more reassuring touches and apologies she can feel him regret as soon as they slip out of his mouth. She doesn’t say anything, just helps him bundle up Greg tighter and tighter, his whispered so, so cold spinning through her mind as he runs along every layer with scrutinizing eyes.

“The ice rink isn’t that cold,” She offers when Greg is clearly agitated by all of this fussing. “He shouldn’t need two coats.”

Wirt glances up in shock, like he’d forgotten she and Greg were even there. “What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, okay. You alright, Greg?”

Greg nods enthusiastically as he slips out of his orange outer garment, going on about what he learned in school that week about ice rinks, exactly what led to this impromptu trip to begin with. He pauses halfway through when he sees Wirt begin to open the door. “Wirt, shouldn’t you wear a coat too?”

“What? Oh, no. I’ll. I’ll be okay.”

“I dunno,” Greg cut in. “You should wear something. Like your blue coat! That way you Sara and I will match and if we get separated we can find each other!”

Aberdale isn’t that big, and Sara and Wirt know it, but she shrugs when she says, “That’s not a bad idea. We know our way around, but everything looks the same when it’s snowing.”

Wirt sighs and heads toward his room. Greg pulls on Sara’s sleeve, and she bends down to hear him whisper “You see? I’m looking out for him! Like I promised!”

“Just like you promised,” She says, and tussles the pompom on his hat. “Thank you.” She stands when she hears Wirt’s footsteps behind them, and beams. “Hey, Wirt! You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t think Greg’s ever been ice skating. Greg, have you? Did you go with your grandma ever?”

“Nope! I’ve never done this before! Sara, have you?”

“When I was little,” She says. “I did ice skating before ballet. I learned to balance really well. ‘S why I’m the mascot.”

“Aw man, you’re about to show us up, aren’t you?”

“Possibly! It’s okay, I’ll teach you both.”

Wirt and Greg fall twice as Sara skates around them before Wirt calls- “Sara, we are mere lambs in your presence, help us out!”

“Lambs? You mean small and adorable?”

He might be blushing. It could be a chill, but she doesn’t think so. “N- no, I was thinking more like completely uncoordinated.”

She takes each of their mittened hands and they skate fairly well until Greg topples them over, completely on purpose.

On New Year’s Eve Greg invites her to spend the night. She brings it up to her parents as a joke, but they decide that, since it was the little brother and they’d probably crash in the living room anyway, sure. Why not?

It’s surprising, but they set up a nest on the living room floor and babysit while Wirt’s parents are at a party. They play board games long after Greg has fallen asleep.

At eleven fifty eight p.m. December thirty first, Wirt asks if he can kiss her. 

At eleven fifty nine p.m., he chickens out.

At twelve a.m., January first, Sara does it anyway. 

At eleven thirty a.m., Greg prods her awake. 

“Sara?” he whispers.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Are you good at keeping secrets?”

“I can be.”

“Can I tell you one?”

“Of course.”

“I dunno if Wirt’s told you, but we went somewhere on Halloween. We met a girl named Beatrice and a woodsman and a highwayman and a talking horse and-”

“Where was this?”

“In the river over the graveyard wall! It was really cool. We almost got stuck there, though, which wasn’t so cool. Wirt and I almost became trees and it was really bad. But I don’t think it was that bad. Is that bad?”

“That sort of depends. Why don’t you think it’s bad?”

“I think it fixed Wirt.”

“Fixed?”

He didn’t smile a lot. I mean, he still doesn’t smile a lot, but it used to be worse. And he never thought anybody liked him or anything, and he was really mean to me. I don’t think he meant to be, but he used to insist that I wasn’t his real brother.”

Sara glances at the boy sleeping next to her and considers smacking his arm, but doesn’t. Greg’s telling her this in confidence; it would be horrible of her to break her promise before he finished his story. “I’m sorry, Greg,” She says instead.

“But you don’t have to be! Ever since we got back, he tells everyone that I’m his brother. He never says ‘half’ anymore! And he’s still really sad, I think, but he smiles sometimes! And he sleeps more! And I think it has to do with you.”

“Me?”

“So, now that I’ve told you my secret about the other world, you have to tell me yours. Are you a witch?”

“A witch?”

“Yeah! Did you cast a spell on Wirt to make him better?”

Greg looks so eager to know about a real witch. Or maybe he just really wants to know what she did to make his brother happy. She isn’t sure, but she thinks she might have an answer, so tentatively, she begins: “I don’t think I am, Greg. And I don’t think I made him better. Not on my own, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember what you promised me?”

“To take care of Wirt?”

Sara makes a pistol with her fingers and clicks her tongue. “Right on the money, bud. I think you’ve been doing a great job. And so has your mom, and your dad, and probably the girl you met in the woods.” He mentions Beatrice offhand, sometimes. Sara had always assumed she was a cousin he used to be close to. “Wirt’s done a great job too. It wasn’t all me. In fact, it’s very rarely all anyone.”

Wirt shifts, and she glances over to find the tips of his ears have gone pink. She giggles when she turns back to Greg, thrusting her left pinkie finger in front of her. “I think he’s waking up. Make me another promise?”

“Sure, what?”

“Promise you’ll keep up the good work?”

“Obviously!”

They shake pinkies and Greg rouses Wirt, although Sara is almost certain he was awake for most of their conversation. It’s noon before she leaves, the living room having no trace that such an important pillow fort was ever built, and Sara pecks Wirt’s cheek before she opens the door.

“Watch out for that half brother of yours,” She tries, and is pleased at his automatic response of-

“Brother. Families don’t use prefixes, he’s just my brother. And I will. See you Monday, Sara.”

 

There’s a dance they don’t attend in February, mostly because neither of them can. She tries to teach him what little she remembers, but she never learned how to slow dance, and he can’t dance at all, and their feet tangle in something on the floor, so they topple over. He ends up flung over her legs while she’s seated comfortably, leaning her elbows into his stomach as she clicks on the T.V. .

“What, Sara, let me up!”

“Naaaaahhh, I think I’m comfy here.”

“Well I’m not!”

“It’s what you get for tripping us?” She tries, attempting to hold back a laugh as he whines.

“I didn’t trip us! You told me you could dance!”

“I can! Sort of. Just not slow dance. I was in ballet, yo. Hey, let’s watch the Charlie Brown Valentine special!”

Wirt sighs and flops backward into the floor.

 

When March swoops in and begins to defrost everyone’s toes at least a little, Wirt remains firmly in ice. She spends more weekends with Taylor and Jason and people from the football and wrestling teams, but she can’t stop herself from wondering if Wirt had gotten up at all. She stops by in the evenings, sometimes, to see if he’s eaten. More often than not, his desperate mother smiles something strained and jitters around small talk before pulling her aside to ask if he’s been okay at school. Sara thinks he’s doing his work, and she tells his mother this, but Sara knows it’s not what she’s asking. 

“I think he needs some help,” she says one day, and Wirt’s mother nods in worried resignation. She had thought that, too, Sara guesses, and just needed someone outside the family to confirm it. “I don’t want to pressure him though. Can I see him?”

His mother always nods. Sometimes his door is open and she steps cautiously into his room to sit next to his bed.

Sometimes the door is shut, and she knocks gently and tells him she stopped by. 

There’s a note taped to the door once. It’s in tiny shaky script, and she doesn’t read it closely, but it’s something about being such a crappy friend and an even worse boyfriend, if you could even call them a couple, he’s sorry, thanks for coming anyway, she shouldn’t have to pretend to want to be around him.

It’s the first time she opens the door and flicks on the light.

“Wirt? It’s Sara,” but she knows he knows who’s there. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been around like I should. Let’s talk.”

 

In April, he comes out some weekends. They spend most of Spring break listening to music and writing stories, but one day she drags him to a meadow not too far across town.

“How do you know about this place?” he asks.

“You have woods, I have a meadow.” He screws up his eyes in confusion, because he never told her about the woods, not explicitly, and she mentally slaps her forehead. I promised Greg I could keep a secret, she thinks, and hopes Wirt doesn’t ask any more questions because she isn’t sure how he’d react to Greg’s bare bone description of what happened. They’ve never talked about it, aside from tidbits she picks up from poetry she’s only read lines of. What matters now is the meadow. The flowers are gorgeous, and she’s sure he’ll like it.

He did like it, but he didn’t like the severe allergy he apparently had to something there. Sara apologises as she lugs him home.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he soothes through sneezes. “It’s just my eyes are watering like hell.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

The door is locked, and Greg answers her frantic knocks, leaving only the screen door between Wirt and the safety of a flower-free home.

“Greg!” She greets. “Hey! So! I sort of broke your brother. Do you think you could get him inside? And maybe get your dad?”

Greg considers this. “If you broke Wirt, then you’re a traitor to the state!” He decides, and rather loudly adds “You cannot be allowed inside!” before he slams the door.

“What? Greg! Hey! Hey, Let him in!” One of Sara’s small hands knocks powerfully on the door while the other supports the boy sneezing entirely too much to answer. Wasn’t the sneezing supposed to stop after the allergen was removed? “Greg, Hey!”

Phil, Greg’s father answers the door this time. “Hey, guys, what’s all this yelling down here- oh, God. Wirt, what happened?”

“He’s-” Sara starts, waving her hands frantically, “He’s- having an allergy attack, I think? We found out the flowers in the meadow don’t agree with him.”

Phil glances to Wirt, who’s blinking and sneezing like crazy. “Oh, God. Glad we caught this. I didn’t think he was allergic to anything.”

“I didn’t either,” Wirt grumbles, “Mom probably knew.”

“Well, I guess we do now.”

“Flowers,” Wirt groans, and Sara winces. 

“Sorry about that.” She says. It feels like too little, but Wirt flaps his hand to quiet her. 

“Not your fault. I’ll call you later, okay?” It comes out sort of slurred and in between severe sneezing, but she gets it.

“Yeah, definitely. Thank you, sir. Bye!”

“Goodbye, Traitor!” Greg calls from their open living room window. Sara waves behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for checking out Year's a Journey. I've been writing it since OTGW came out and at this point it's kind of my baby, honestly? So I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. 
> 
> UP NEXT: Summer and Fall. Jason Funderberker?! Some closure for Sara on what actually happened on Halloween?! Who knows!!!


End file.
